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DOBELL COLLECTION 



FUGITIVE POEMS 



TRENT TEEVORS. 



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PRINTED AT THE "DOVER TELEGRAPH" OFFICE. 
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CLAUDE AND WILFRID 

THESE FRAGMENTS 
ARE MOST GRATEFULLY INSCRIBED. 



" HE WHO KECEI\'ES A BENEFIT MUST REMEMBER IT FOR EVER IF HE 
WOULD APPRO'V'E HIS HONESTY." 

Demosthenes' Orations. 



FUGITIVE! POEMS, 

BY TRENT TREVORS. 



MORA. 

A FRAGMENT. 

It was rumoured that when in the Holy Land, Count Mora met and 
fell madly in love with a very heautiful Jewish maiden ; and, further, 
that during his absence she was seized, tortured, and finally put to 
death by some fanatical priests, who accompanied the Crusading Army. 
Those of the vassals who most loved their lord, declared this circumstance 
had absolutely unhinged his reason— but they spoke under their breath : 
the Count was not a man to bear with idle curiosity, and few would 
have dared to ask him any questions. Proud, stern, invested with the 
Sanctity of the Cross; learned beyond the conception of the vulgar, 
and regarded with superstitious reverence by them; cold to his friends, 
and haughty to his equals : his giant stature ; the fame of his knightly 
deeds ; the sin or sorrow which had ploughed deep furrows on his coun- 
tenance, without destroying its strange majestic beauty ; the mystery 
of his birth— his supposed royal, though illegitimate descent; seemed 
to have written on that countenance and life, Alone ! t. t. 



From Orient lands a hero came, 
His bearing high, his herald Fame ; 
Many a gallant action done, 
Many a battle fought and won, 
Many a giant foe defied, 
Had rung his praises far and wide. 
In that stern aspect one might trace 
The features of a kingly race, 
Touched with a glory undefined, 
The crownless majesty of Mind. 



His regal port and glance of fire 
Might well have owned a royal sire ; 
But neither" kith nor kin had he 
In old Germanic ancestry : 
So said the vulgar, and to view 
One fain would deem the story true ; — 
His coal-black hair and sallow cheek, 
Of Eastern lineage seemed to speak ; 
But e'en, if true, he was not then 
Companion meet for other men: — 
There was a something all his own 
"Which marked him out as one alone — 
Alone in the self-conscious trust. 
That will not mate with meaner dust. 

In those dark eyes a mystery lay, 

A world of feeling past away, 

A buried hope, a new-made grave 

Of all the promise Life once gave ; 

Perchance a grief, perchance a sin, 

Nestled their hidden depths within ! 

But whatsoe'er of human dwelt 

In his deep gaze, 'twas guarded well. 

The idle throng might dream he felt. 

The why, or wherefore, none could tell. 

It were no easy task to trace 

The history of that calm face ; 

And if it might be, few would dare 

Inquire what Time had sculptured there- 

So proudly cold, and coldly proud, 

Alike misdoubted and allowed. 

His age — but who can speak of age — 

That is not told by months and years. 



The dim mysterious heritage, 

Measured by guilt, and sealed in tears ? 

We may live centuries in an hour. 

Or years may pass as one short day, 

If tinged with joy, Earth's fairest flower 

Is not more briefly bright than they : — 

And on Count Mora's haughty brow 

A shade had fallen, none knew how ; 

A voiceless grief, a nameless care. 

Had dimmed the wondrous beauty there, — 

And made the Past and Future seem 

Alike to him in one long dream. 

He might have reached the boundary line 

No limner's skill could ere define. 

The narrow passage that divides 

And re-unites Life's surging tides, 

Wliere Youth and Age together stand 

And grasp each other's trembling hand. 

Within his Castle's gloomy keep, 
At midnight Mora kneels alone. 
Oh ! can it be that he should weep. 
And such-like human weakness own ? — 
That the long buried grief of years 
Should rise and utterance find in tears ; 
From the dark dust of death awake. 
To bend the heart it could not break? 
Can he whose outward mien of pride 
Both sympathy and scorn defied, 
Bespoke a soul that would not yield. 
And e'en in danger sought no shield — 
Nay rather seemed to court the blow ! — 
In one brief hour have sunk so low ? 



MORA. 



Alas ! that bearing is the shroud 

We wrap around some treasured clay, 

As pressing onwards sternly proud, 

Our arms close round its dread decay, 

(The grave of gladness past away), — 

What though it be a funeral pall ? 

Within its circle lies our all! 

A single torch — its light burns dim; 

That light is all too bright for him : 

He would not have the sunshine there, 

Nor Angel-form to speed his prayer 

Or listen to his great despair : — 

Such might have been — but oh ! not now. 

The crowns of grief are grandly worn. 

And Pity's self would disallow. 

As fraught with some incipient scorn. 

His vassals sleep — they could not know 

The idiosyncrasy of woe, 

The haughty solitude of feeling 

Which marks the mind that dwells alone,- 

Alike in love and hate revealing 

A depth and grandeur all its own. 



II. 
IDALORN. 



Her affection would never be returned: she knew it from the 
first; and yet hopelessly loved on. It is not true that love cannot 
exist without a hope. Its duration as regards this life may be circum- 
scribed and bounded, for it will prey upon itself; but then it is 
not the feeling that will die — that is immortal, and will look down 
from the Spirit-world with the love of the Angels 

She would rise; she would go forth, she cared not whither. — A covered 
way led from the Castle to the House of Prayer. Instinctively she 
followed it in the cold dark night, as the stricken heart turns homeward 
in its hour of anguish : she would kneel before the Altar, where he had 
knelt so often ; she would tell her griefs to Heaven, since Earth denied 
her sympathy 

Why did he bid her to forget him ? Was unrequited love a crime ? 
or was it possible for the impossible to be regarded as a duty .' t.t. 



Why weepest thou, fair Idalorn ? 
Why is thy sunny brow o'ershaded ? 
Why dost thou rise at early morn, 
Ere yet the Angel stars have faded ? 
Why seek the Altar's sacred rail, 
With trembling step, and cheek so pale. 
And quivering lip, and dreamless gaze. 
That asks not, hopes not, while it prays ? 

I read it in the stifled sigh. 

The voice of untold agony. 

The throbbing brow, the heaving breast. 

The night of darkness — not of rest I 



10 



Fit image of the living gloom 
Which gathers round Affection's tomb; 
The present and the past distress, 
The bitter cross of Loneliness, 
That overspreads the waste of years 
And treasures never-ending tears. 
Alas, for Love ! all other woes 
May realize a brief repose, 
May find some peace when day is done, — 
But unrequited Love has none. 

Her golden hair unguarded sweeping 
Across the monumental stone, 
Whose chiseled outline, sadly sleeping. 
Seemed scarce less life-like than her own: 
A living death ; a deathless life ; 
Eternal calm, and calmless strife ; 
The fearful contrasts that are set 
'Twixt Earth and Heaven, together met : 
The marble touch so coldly still. 
The soulless pangs depicted there, 
Can hardly strike a deadlier chill 
Than the dread grief of one so fair. 

And then to know its weary tide 
Is nothing to the world beside ; 
Nothing to him — no other hand 
Might soothe, no heart could understand, — 
But his, oh, his ! from whom her soul 
Of its great anguish bore the whole : 
Was he too passionless to feel 
Eegret for that he could not heal ? 



11 



" They tell me now he will depart 
Before to-morrow's sun has set, — 
And must I steel my tortured heart ? 
Oh ! would to heaven we ne'er had met ! 
Perchance I had been happy yet ! 
But I must love — and he will go, 
And nothing of devotion know 
That dwells this stricken life within — 
So deep, so pure, it cannot be 
That such should bear the taint of sin; 
Or I should err in loving thee : — 
Mora, my only hope, farewell ! 
"We meet no more; I may not tell 
What I have felt, and thou hast done — 
What I have lost, and thou hast won. 
Since first thou wert my guiding star ! 
'Tis hard to love thee, and in vain ; 
'Tis hard to think that such things are. 
Have been, and will be yet again ; 
That all who suffer, but fulfil 
The workings of an unseen Will : 
That Will is right, it must be so ; 
But it is strange to welcome woe ! — 
And haply those who most profess 
Submission, chance to feel it less." 



It might be fancy, but a sound, 
A soft sad whisper, seemed to come 
And fill the plaintive arches round, 
As from the parted spirit's home ; 
Bitterly deep, and strangely lone, 
The music of that haunting tone 



12 



Floating down the tenantless air, 

Wept and wailed in the House of Prayer :- 

" Child of the dust," it seemed to say, 

" Should'st thou worship thy fellow clay ? 

On all of earth a seal is set — 

Love is for Heaven — Forget ! forget ! " 

It smote the ear of Idalorn, 

And rising with a sudden start — 

It might be bitterness or scorn 

That swept its tempest o'er her heart, — 

But it was something all apart 

From the deep grief which first arose 

To break her youth's serene repose. 

With reckless hand she cast aside 

The glory of her wavy hair. 

Whose tresses like a sunny tide 

Enshrined the brow they could not hide, 

And framed the perfect picture there. 

" Forget ! " in sooth ! What mockery this ? 

That voice — oh, heavens ! it was not his I 

It could not be, despite the tone : — 

She gazed around — " Alone ! " Alone ! 

Till the whole building seemed to her 

Like one deserted sepulchre. 

No cause to wake the demon Fear ; 

No trace of human footstep near ; 

No presence, save her own — and yet 

Rang in her ear, " Forget ! forget ! " 

That harsh word like a serpent stung 

Her quivering sense, and fired the train — 

The latent burning thoughts of pain 



13 



Which mark a heart too tensely strung, 
And lashed them into life again ! 
She dared not pray, she could not weep, 
And only sought Death's dreamless sleep, 
To check the throbbing pulse, and still 
All consciousness of good or ill. 

In the great ocean of Distress, 
One broken heart, the more or less, 
One lonely life surcharged and dim — 
Was lightly held by God and him ? 

Bitter, in truth ; but who shall blame ? 
Unless they, too, have felt the same : — 
Have bowed the heart and bent the knee 
To Love's intensest agony ; 
And in the darkest moment heard 
The mockery of that fearful word. 
Where their Affection's crown was set 
On heedless brows ; — " Forget, forget ! " 



^;3>'^^?^^^^>^^ 



III. 
MORA'S STORY. 

There is a sorrow that changes the whole current of existence ; that 
merges all brightness in blankness, all happiness in hopelessness. — I have 
seen strong men bend low beneath the giant grief, like a reed that is bent 
by the force of the tempest. I have seen tears fall like rain from stern 
eyes that were never wont to weep, while the tortured heart struggled with its 
destiny, and the loving Angels looked down on a dread reality of suffering, 
that Heaven itself can hardly heal on earth 

Step by step, borne onward by the winged Hours, came the morning. — The 
Altar lamp that so long had written strange pictures on the old paved floor, 
flickered and trembled beneath the eastern breeze, and paled into a dreamy 

indistinctiveness Suddenly, like a giant 

aroused from sleep, sprang the sun from the distant hills. Floods of light, — 
Light, type of the Infinite, — poured through the Chancel on the western wall, 
and touched the sculptured cherubs on the resting place of centuries. . . 

But they must part ! — One more long gaze for her — what mystery was there 
in that gaze .*' Who shall speak the inexpressible ? Te, the loved and 
loving ones of earth, do ye know what is written on the last ? x. t. 

Hurrying to the Altar lamp, 
The morning breeze came chill and damp, 
And sweeping by the flickering blaze, 
Toyed and played with its dreamy rays ; 
Gliding along the old Church floor, — 
Golden letters speeding their way, 
Fainter and fainter evermore, 
Heralded in the coming day. 
And as they vanished one by one, — 
(Pictures of life whose sands have run), — 
A nameless shadow seemed to vn-ite 
Epitaphs for the bygone night; 



MORA'S STORY. 15 

Tracing out on the cold grey stone, 
Where Angel forms kept watch alone, 
And where the Cross its banner cast 
In blessing on the lowly dead, 
The likeness of a giant Past, 
Mourning over his glory fled. 

Another light for Idalorn, 

Another shadowy presence came : 

Was it the spu'it-speaking dawn 

Of other worlds, that breathed her name. 

And woo'd her from life's long despair 

To taste eternal gladness there ? 

That voice ! that step ! Tis he ! tis he ! 
Mora himself! He came : but how ? 
She heeds not, cares not, asks not now, — 
And yet one thought: it cannot be 
That he heard all ? The deepening blush 
Moimted her brow with sudden flush, 
Painted her cheek, and dyed her neck, — 
Eoses strewn o'er a broken wreck. 

And not unmoved, he saw her stand 
Trembling before him, and so meek 
In her deep sorrow, — one fair hand 
Stretched out as if some stay to seek. 
Rests, where the Cross its shadow throws 
On a child-seraph's calm repose. 
The timid gaze, that could not greet 
One she so loved, now sadly dim, — 
The faltering step that fain would meet. 
And had not strength, — all spoke to him, — 



16 MORA'S STORY. 

And his keen eye could freely trace 
The language of that wistful face ; 
The world of tenderness revealed 
In bitterness, in misery sealed. 
He saw the Future veiled in tears, 
Tears of the heart in secret shed, 
But o'er his soul the waste of years 
Had passed, — his life was with the dead. 
He neither sought, nor cared to know, 
There yet breathed one who loved him so. 

" My bride's the grave. I woo her yet ; 
Love if thou wilt, I must forget — 
Forget not suffering, but that I 
Was formed like others, and have known 
Feelings that were not born to die, — 
Or being, could not die alone. 
Thou lovest well, that varying cheek 
And trembling lip its language speak — 
Thou lovest, and I dare not be 
Grateful for love to heaven or thee. 
The reason it were long to trace. 
And strangely sad, and sadly strange, 
And this is scarce the time or place 
Befitting thee to learn the change 
That swept across life's troubled sea 
And darkened all its gifts for me. 
But, as thou wilt, I would not choose, 
Nor what thou askest, dare refuse." 



" Again in thought I see thee stand, 
My beautiful, my own Azaire — 



MORA'S STORY. ]^ 

Again I press thy gentle hand, 

Again I kiss thy raven hair, 

And mark the spirit-language rise 

In the clear depths of those dark eyes. 

And do I breathe when thou art gone, 

"VYliose love, whose life was one with mineP 

"Vyiiat though existence linger on ? 

It is not life, that died with thine. 

My heart is like a spell-bound lute, 

Whose disused chords have long been mute ; 

My hope is with thy grave low lying. 

Where the soft orient breeze is sighing. 

Where on the many-tinted flowers 

The evening dews descend in showers, 

And freshen into deeper bloom 

Those silent watchers round thy tomb. 

Far down in that dark loathsome place 

Death holds thee in his strong embrace, 

With firmer and more during grasp 

Than earthly lover's teuderest clasp ! 

Well may he love — no fairer form 

Was ever destined for his prey, 

While yet the life-blood, rich and warm, 

Lent feeling to its mask of clay, 

And gushing in thy cheek and brow. 

Dreamed not of death for such as thou. 

" The winters of ten weary years 

Have o'er my sinking spirit swept ; 

An ocean flood of stormy tears 

Has come and gone since thou hast slept ; 

But not a tear that angels weep 

Can rouse thee from thy doom-fraught sleep, 



MORA S STORY. 

Or speed my unaccepted prayer : 

The Heaven is dark — thou art not there ! 

It is not that I mourn my fate, 

However darkly desolate ; 

Nor murmur at the will Divine — 

My grief is nothing unto thine ! 

Grieve as I may, I cannot share 

The blankness of thy great despair, 

The bitterness, the dread disgrace, 

The cross, the crime, that curse thy race. 

Daughter of Israel, can it be 

The gate of Heaven is closed to thee ? 

"They said that she had tried to win 
Me from my father's faith away, 
And wile me to the depths of sin, 
In which her erring nation lay : 
That she had used unlawful art 
To gain the mastery of my heart, — 
That some black hellish mystery, 
The keystone of our love must be ! 
Poor blinded fools ! they little knew 
The magic of affection true — 
The greater than an angel's might 
That centres in its touch of light ! 
Unmoved by threats, unbent to prayer, 
Such witchery thine, my lost Azaire ! — 

They tortured her ! Oh, God in Heaven ! 
That human crimes should bear Thy name : 
And the pure life which Thou hast given 
Be wrested from its quivering frame. 



Mora's story. 19 

As if each throe of agony 
Were incense-offering meet for Thee, 
And breaking of one bruised reed, 
A world-Redeemer's cause could plead! 

" She died ! I knew not how or when ; 
I had no strength or reason then. 
She died! I could not feel the pain, 
For madness seared my heart and brain ; 
'And three long winters, passed away, 
Ere I awoke to curse the day. 
The azure sky, the sun that shone, 
When my sole earthly light was gone — 
The birds that sang, the leaves and flowers, 
That spoke to me of gladlier hours — 
Awoke to wrestle with my fate, 
All all self-conscious, but too late ; 
Awoke to realize my lot, 
That I still breathed, and she was not." 

Yet Idalorn was calm, and seemed 
As if she only idly dreamed. 
All pale, and mute, and passionless, 
(So statue -like in her distress. 
That one could scarce believe she felt, 
Or that the sense of being dwelt 
In consciousness of present will. 
Within a form so coldly still) ; 

She heard the close : her dark blue eye 

Was fixed on viewless vacancy. 

As if in some dim outline tracing 

The history of a life's defacing ; 

How deep the sands of grief had run, 

How hopes had withered one by one. 



20 MORA'S STORY. 



The morn has risen, and rays of light 

Press through the casement warm and bright, 

And with a sunny radiance fall 

Full on the Church's western wall ; 

One by one, the shadows depart, 

(All save the gloom that shi-ines the heart,) 

Scattei'ed around, the tombstones old, 

One by one, are fretted with gold. — 

Beams of Day, as ye onward steal, 

What is the truth your tongues reveal ? 

Winning the soul, hushing the breath. 

Speak ye of Heaven ? warn ye of Death ? 



Looking upward, where for ever 
Sorrow and pain shall pass away. 
Where grief never more may sever 
Hearts that would be one to-day ! 
As seeking worlds of endless bliss, 
To rectify the wrongs of this ; 
Foreseeing in the realms above 
Fruition of all perfect love ; 
(The recompense to sufferers given 
From which all earthly hope is riven) ; 
She stood, one fair hand raised to heaven— 
" There we shall meet." He bent his head, 
As if to answer her high thought — 
His own was with the dead! 



HONOUR THE liRAVE. 21 



HONOUE THE BRAYE. 



From the fields their bravery won, 

Where their comrades' blood was shed, 
Where the cypress wreaths of triumph 

AVave aboon the gallant dead ; 
Where the hero-sons of England 

Perished in the cause of Right, 
Where the noble and the peasant 

Met as equals in the fight, — 
From every grave, so lone and lowly, 

Cometh an echo stern and holy, 

Honour the Brave ! 

From the widowed hearts of England, 

From the homes that mourn them now, 
Where the news of their disaster 

Furrowed many an anxious brow; 
AVhere a mingled grief and glory 

Lingers round some vacant chair, 
Where the soldier-sire or brother 

Led of old the evening prayer, — 
Re-echoes with a softer tone, 

And a sad sweetness all its own. 

Honour the Brave ! 



22 A DREAM. 

Fallen sheaves of England's harvest, 

Gathered early to your rest, 
Vainly we, the cost recounting, 

Cypress bind on Victory's crest. 
Let us honour the survivors, 

(Thus the Past we glorify,) 
By the same high motive prompted 

They go forth to dare and die. 
Oh, thankless hearts and evil days 

Are theirs who grudge a soldier's praise ! 
Honour the Brave ! 



^^^^^^=^2^-"^:^ 



A DEE AM. 

Theke came to me a strange wild dream, 

A dim mysterious view : — 
I looked into a mansion filled 

With shadows of the true. 

It was a grand and gloomy roof, 

A Glory passed away 
Had touched it with a transient light. 

Like sunbeams on Decay. 

There were many dwellers in that hall, 

Some glorious and bright, 
But more were dark unearthly shapes 

That seemed to shun the sight. 



A DREAM. 23 



And as I near and nearer drew, 

I saw each separate name 
Traced out on every spirit-brow 

In characters of flame. 

Self, closely leagued with Low Desire, 
Was chasing through the gloom, 

A flitting desultory shade, 
Wliose presence fiUed the room : 

That shade I heard Possession called, 

What all men covet most. 
But having, only seem to have, 

Or having all, are lost ! 

As I marked its hideous outline 

And serpent-writhing brow, 
I thought, Can there be longing love 

For such a thing as thou, — 

The most dark and least deserving 

Of all that shadowy band ? 
I gazed, and gazed again: I saw 

A clay mask in its hand. 

Oh what a glory and a light 
Shone round that mask of clay ! 

But a writing gemmed its temples, 
" This too shall pass away." 

I saw Love walking all alone, 

He wore a faded crown, 
Salt tears had dimmed his lustrous eyes, 

And worn his beauty down. 



24 A DREAM. 

His harp was out of tune, and as 
He struck its trembling strings 

Echo took up the strain, and wept 
The dirge of happier things. 

I read the history of his life, — 

The tale of vanished youth, 
"When he first gathered spring-tide flowers, 

In the bright vale of Truth, — 

And as Love never bears disguise, 

But what he is, he shows, 
I knew the restless demon Change 

Had breathed upon the rose. 

Anger and Hatred too were there. 
And would have ruled the whole, 

But one had bound and conquered them,- 
The giant. Self-control. 

And ever and anon they strove 
To rise and burst their bands, 

Glaring around with lawless mien. 
And clenched unholy hands. 

Before them, resting on the air. 
There seemed a phantom knife 

Floating downwards, ever downwards. 
Towards the stream of life. 

While over, on the other side, 

The meek- eyed Pity wept; 
And at their feet a Thought of God, 

In future Judgment slept. 



25 



Autl Truth stood there with troubled brow, 
And deepeniog blush of shame ; 

Alas ! her lips were closely sealed, 
By fear of this world's blame. 

The gems had fallen from her crown, — 

I saw it with a sigh, — 
A two-faced spectre picked them up, 

And then went smiling by. 

The word "Civility" was writ 

Upon that spectre's feet, 
But God had graven on her brows 

The serpent name, Deceit. 

I heard the triumph-tone of Vice ; 

" Gold cannot plead in vain !" 
While Honesty was half asleep. 

Within the grasp of Gain. 

And while Policy stood doubting 

On which side Interest lay. 
In thought to give the casting-vote, 

His chance had passed away. 

I saw a slight and fragile form. 

With chUdlike fairy-hand. 
Striving to rear a lasting tower 

On plains of shifting sand. 

Two moles were burrowing the while, 
And made that tower their prey. 

Sighing, Hope left her useless toys 
To Ruin and Decay. 



26 A DREAM. 

And yet another shade I saw, 
The grandest and the last, 

Sceptred and throned, a kingly form ! 
The Memory of the Past. 

" Love came and knelt before that throne. 

And weeping, bent his head; 
I knew within the giant's grasp 
Some cherished one lay dead. 

Hope faded into wreaths of air, 
As his stern gaze she met; 

And in her stead uprose to view, 
A mystery. Regret. 

What was it ? It was gone — my dream, 
It vanished from my sight ! 

The tide of life gushed back anew. 
I looked — into the night. 

That shadowy haU had passed away 
With all its spectral train ; 

But shadows of the true and trite 
Are never sent in vain. 



^^<^^>^^>^^ 



SHADOWS OF LIFE. 27 

EVA'S FAREWELL 

Thou, whose departing steps have borne away 
The gleam of gladness that to me was given, 
In whose dark glorious eyes the mystery lay 
That won my all of love on this side heaven, — 
Reflecting, in their pure and chastened light, 
God's grand and holy estimate of right. 
As on some stream the sun's descending ray 
Writes its own image at the close of day. 
My only Love, farewell ! 

I would not deem thee less deserving now, 
Though it should lessen life's long pang for me ! 
I would not grudge affection, nor allow 
Regret for that which being, still must be! 
I would not break my idol, nor destroy 
One saddening relic of the bygone joy, 
That thou wert good and worthy of my love, 
Bears its own thought of recompence above ! 
And until then, farewell ! 

SHADOWS OE LIFE. 

SUGGESTED BY A RUIX ON THE RHINE. 
Eventide. 
Thou world of darkness and distress, 
AVhere Ruin holds unbridled sway, 
Strength tells of weakness, lastingness 
But whispers of unseen decay, — 



28 SHADOWS OF LIFE. 

Where Gladness withers in our sight 

Beneath the ruthless scythe of Time, 

And all things touched with Beauty's light 

Must fall and perish ere their prime : 

Why do the roofless walls remain, 

The monuments of bygone pain ? 

Why does the stricken heart return, 

And round its shattered idol mourn ? 

Why haunt one spot at close of day, 

And linger near the lifeless clay, 

When Feeling's light has passed away ? 

Yet such is Life, and such must be 

The heirdom of Mortality ; 

The laws of Nature know no change. 

And Time has nothing new or strange: 

The broken heart, the crumbling tower. 

Alike confess one giant power 

To plan, to build, to love, to die ! 

And all, perchance, unheeding why, 

This, this is human life ! this, this is Destiny ! 

Far down below these ruined halls 

The fabled Ehine's majestic force 

Blends with the distant waterfalls 

And mountain-streams which feed its course; 

The echo of that mighty tone. 

Is fraught with music all its own, — 

No other voice of good or ill 

Breaks on the solitude profound. 

So stilly strange, and strangely still. 

The quietude that reigns around. 

That one might fancy well, I ween. 

Such landscape all a fairy scene, 



SHADOWS OF LIFE. 29 

But for the murmur of the trees, 
And chiding of the Autumn breeze, 
And the wild river hurrying on 
As in the time of centuries gone. 

On to the Ocean grand and vast 
Its deep blue waves are speeding fast, — 
Ah! the sad years that glide away, 
Are swifter and more sure than they : 
Who shall win us those ages back — 
Who shall follow their viewless track ? 
Lost, lost to earth, for ever lost! 
Well for those who counted their cost ! 

Another weary day is done. 
Its toils and troubles all are gone. 
And all its cares, and joys, and fears, 
Its blighted hopes and bitter tears ; 
Never more shall the grieving heart 
In the same sorrow bear a part ; 
Never more shall the tearful eye 
Breathe out the self-same agony ! 
Others may come, more darkly deep. 
And other wrecks the heart may weep — 
Other hopes as fondly cherished — 
Other links of love may sever ; 
But the former things have perished, 
And the past is past for ever ! 

Say we the Fasti The tempest gone. 
Leaves the desert it dwelt upon; 
The blighted hope — the broken vow, 
Are all unanswerable now ; 

E 



30 SHADOWS OF LIFE. 

But they have made an aching void 
Wliere once tlie sunshine loved to dw^ell, 
And bright imaginings destroyed, 
Tlieir own sad tale of ruin tell. 
The storm which sweeps the grand old ocean 
Must pass away with meaner things, 
But that which stirs the heart's emotion 
No thought of future healing brings. 

Oh, when we feel in life's long strain 

Our aU is given and given in vain, 

And lonely ruins round us tell 

That we in loving loved too well, — 

(Teaching perhaps the reason why 

Our brightest hope should fade and die, 

Because we reared an idol throne 

"Where God's great love would reign alone), 

When all on earth is overcast 

And all we cared for in the Past; 

Or when we see some favoured few 

Enjoy the bliss we never knew, 

And hear the song of love arise 

Like the lark's note in summer skies, 

When beating back th' entranced air. 

Or poising on extended wings. 

The music of his matin prayer 

Wliispers the soul of heavenly things — 

Too conscious that melodious tone 

Can never, never be our own; 

That we may never hope to know 

The blessedness of loving so. 

Striving to learn as ages wane 

The lesson stern of patient pain. 



SHADOWS OF LIFE. 31 

While stifled feeling pales the cheek, 
(Voice of a heart that dares not speak), 
And gathering in the trembling eye. 
Breaks the full grief that must not fall, 
Or crushing thought impels a sigh 
To Memory ! now, alas ! our all : 
Then comes the high inspiring strain, 
True Love in Heaven shall live again, — 
Live where the rest of endless years 
Will compensate our transient tears, 
And Union, like a boundless river. 
In that blest land, flow on For Ever, 



THE SAGE AND RING. 

It is said that an Eastern Kmg once asked a Sage, whose -wisdom was 
in high repute, to engrave on his signet-ring a talisman that might 
prove of equal force in prosperity and in adversity. The old man wrote, 
"This, too, shall pass away." 

The sun was high on Eastern hills 

Shedding his radiance far and wide, 
As in ten thousand glorious rills 

He furrowed dovni the mountain side, 
And darted with increasing force 

On each sequestered glade. 
As angry in his lofty course 
To find so small a thing the source 

Of partial refuge made. 



32 THE SAGE AND RING. 

Half-sheltei'ed from the floods of light 

By arching ridges wild and rude, 
There dwelt upon the frowning height, 

As in primaeval solitude, 
One whose wisdom and whose fame 

Were noted far and near. 
Who won himself a mighty name. 
And by some secret speU could tame 

The boldest heart to fear.- 

And whispers of his dreaded skill, 

Borne on by Rumour's myriad tongue. 
As chanced by words of good or ill. 

In dim mysterious echoes rung : 
He never sought the idle praise 

Of the unthinking crowd. 
But onward, through successive days. 
Pressed, as the sun's descending rays 

Pierce through a transient cloud. 

Not now alone the Eastern Sage 

Looked forth on Nature's glorious field, 
As in the majesty of age. 

He leant upon his time-worn shield; 
A kingly form there graced his side. 

And listless gazed below. 
And in the heat of youthful pride 
Impatient watched the swelling tide 

Of sunbeams to and fro. 

At length his hasty accents broke 
Upon the old man's listening ear. 

And scoffing thus the monarch spoke 

To one whose heart knew nought of fear : 



THE SAGE AND RING. 33 

" What read'st thou in that wondrous book 

Of import drear and dread ? 
What means that dark impassioned look, 
As if thy soul communion took 

With the forgotten dead ? 

" Old man, I asked thee but a word, — 

Some potent spell in every hour, 
Why is thy answer thus deferred ? 

Say, hast thou lost thy wonted power P 
Wilt thou, or can'st thou, grave for me 

Upon this signet ring, 
In thine own language wild and free, 
Some charm that may be worthy thee. 

And worthy of a King ? 

" Give me an antidote to care, 

A barrier in successful hours ; 
Or, in the torrent of despair 

To renovate my failing powers : 
Yes, grave me what may prove a stay 

Throughout this changeful strife, 
A bridle in each prosperous way, 
A spur in Fortune's adverse day, 

A talisman of life. 

" What read'st thou in yon azure height 

To chain that lofty spirit down. 
That will not quail at earthly might 

And spurns the lustre of a crown ? 
Say, hast thou lost thy wonted fire 

And is thy vision dim, 



34 THE SAGE AND RING. 

Or must those burning thoughts expire 
Ere they thy secret soul inspire 
And light the torch within?" 

Unheeded oft the words of pride 

Fall on the ear of conscious worth, 
As on a rock the ocean tide 

May vainly pour its fury forth! 
The mind that in itself is great 

Can stand unmoved the shock, 
Bearing alike the storms of Fate 
In prosperous as in adverse state, 

As firmly as the rock. 

The old man took the jewelled ring, 

And gazed in silence long and deep. 
As if it were a mighty thing 

To wake whole centuries from their sleep ; 
And distant recollections stealing 

O'er Memory's troubled sea 
In mournful mellow cadence pealing 
Aroused again each slumbering feeling 

To measures wild and free. 

Then spellbound by the mystic Past, 

He raised at last his hoary head, 
And communings both high and vast 

Seemed holding with the mighty dead. 
As if, in that far azure height 

Which met his ardent gaze 
Were written in the floods of light 
What could alone dispel the night 

Of this world's drearv nuize. 



THE SAGE AND RINO. 35 

Whate'er it was, the Sage at length 

His long mysterious silence broke, 
And thus, with eloquence and strength. 

Though long delayed, the old man spoke . 
"My King, would'st thou be truly great 

In Life's tempestuous day. 
Remember thou in every state 
That might depress thee or elate, — 

This, too., shall ^ja^s away .' 

" We are but men, we cannot quell 

The passions of our nature here. 
But we can check them by a spell 

That bridles joy and conquers fear. 
We must not waste our days in quest 

Of that we may not find ; 
In times of sorrow and unrest, 
That man alone is truly blest 

Who regulates the mind, 

" It is the mind, th' immortal mind, 

On which all earthly bliss depends, 
'Tis that whose never-dying kind 

Up to the spirit realm ascends. 
It is the evenness of soul 

Which Time itself defies ; 
And when the darkest tempests roll 
Can trace on Heaven's o'erarching scroll, 

The language of the skies. 

"Remember then in adverse hours. 

The sharpest trial is but brief, 
And to renew thy failing powers. 

Time's wonted solace brings relief; 



36 THE SAGE AND RIXG. 

And heed not thou the gath'ring cloud 

That mars thy onward way, 
The mocking of the idle crowd 
Which now applauds thee long and loud, 
This, too, shall pass away. 

" Go, write long records on the sand, 

In all the pomp of regal state, 
The ocean's unrelenting hand 

Is like the changing stroke of Fate, 
And as upon the mighty deep. 

The sun's descending ray 
Rests, like a giant in his sleep. 
The waves their mournful measure keep,- 

' This, too, shall pass away.' 

" Or waste thy life in idle dreams, 

And in the morning hour of youth 
Think all is sunshine, as it seems. 

And Love a lie as if the truth. 
Yes, gather pebbles on the shore, 

But in thy childish play. 
As Time's advancing billows roar, 
Hearest thou not yet more and more, — 

' These, too, shall pass away ? ' 

"And when thy heart in buoyant pride, 

Urged by the torrent of success, 
Swells higher than the ocean-tide 

When giant rocks its rage repress, 
Then, as in Fortune's darkest frown, 

So in her happiest day. 
To chain each mighty impulse down, 
And dim the lustre of a crown, — 

King, ' this shall pass away.' 



THE SAGE AND RING. 37 

" Look not on yonder azure sky 

With wistful and impassioned gaze, 
The sun that greets thy wond'ring eye 

Must shortly hide his glorious rays ; 
But deem not thou if Nature's night 

Succeed the smiling day, 
His beams no more shall bless thy sight. 
And endless clouds shut out the light, — 

' These, too, shall pass away.' 

" In this dark scene there's ne'er a flower 
Whose fragrance fills the lonely air, 

But whispers of some after horn- 
When we may vainly seek it there ; 

What though thy soul communion took 
With Heaven, it cannot stay — 

That Heaven wUl fade — avert thy look; 

Eeadest thou not in Nature's book 
'That all things pass away?' 

" Be this thy talisman of Life 

To guide thee through its troubled scene, 
The trellis-work of mortal strife 

Where shade and sunlight flit between; 
And when thy weary spirit bends 

To earthly cares a prey, 
The all -providing charm attends. 
And promise of deliverance sends, 

' For all things pass away.' " 

He ceased ; but silence long and deep 

Had chained the monarch's haughty tongue. 

Till echoing onwards up the steep 
The old man's lofty accents rung, 



38 THE SAGE AND RING. 

As in that homeless solitude 

He sang an ancient lay, 
And still his destined task pursued — 
This was the burthen, wild and rude, — 

" This, too, shall pass away." 

And cloudlike visions of the Past 

Came floating o'er his restless brain, 
As dreams of that which cannot last 

In life's dark hour recur again ; 
Recorded on that time-worn leaf 

Were deep-indented lines, 
Now touched with light intense as brief 
As when upon the ripened sheaf 

The sun's full glory shines. 

In the short hour of human bliss, 

When Fortune lends her brightest ray. 
Ah, what avails her smile, if this 

Must surely, swiftly, pass away ? 
And what the sounds of transient mirth 

That meet our listening ear, 
If, like the dreams which gave them birth. 
They perish with the things of earth. 

And leave no record here ? 

Oh, when in sorrow's changeful strife 

Our mourning spirits seek repose. 
Sore wearied by the ills of life. 

And denser clouds that mark its close. 
Then let us view the dreary Night 

As the outcourts of Day, 
The harbinger of coming light 
That whispers in its tone of might, 

" This, too, shall pass away ! " 



39 



FORGET! 

Oh ! cast that hasty thought away, 
Though with ill-judging kindness fraught ; 

I could not, if I would, obey. 

Or loose the links by suffering wrought. 

I know the dream of bliss is o'er ; 

I know that we may meet no more ; 

I know the Star of Hope has set ; 

But do not ask me to " Forget ! " 

I must remember, for my life 

Is full of sorrow and imrest ; 
I must remember in the strife 

How, in the Past, I have been blest ; 
And so gain strength to battle on 
Its weary warfare, all alone — 
TiU earthly pangs and wishes cease, 
Or lose themselves in God's own peace. 

^^^'^'^^-^^^."^^ 

BEAUTY. 

Oh ! Beauty lingers mid'st the " star-robed heavens ! 
And lights their glittering orbs ; it tints the flower, 
And hovers on the breeze ; it shades the brow 
Of those we love ; it wreaths the joyous smile 
Of guileless infancy; it paints the grove 
And lingers round each memory-hallowed spot 
In lonely radiance, and throughout the world 
Proclaims the glory of its author, God. 



40 FORGETFULNESS. 



rORGETFULNESS. 

I HAD a vision long ago, 
A dread intensity of woe ; 
Eemembrance says not where or when — 
Ages have come and gone since then ! 
But so it was, a trial came — 
Many perchance have felt the same ; 
We do not suffer singly here, 
We cannot bear our griefs alone. 
For ever through the circling sphere 
Creation lends an answering tone ; 
But stiU it came, the deep distress 
That words may shadow, not express; 
And one, I may not deem him friend — 
Yet was he more than friend to me, 
And gratitude and friendship blend 
In that dear name's great sanctity, — 
He saw whereon my heart was set, 
And called it "duty to forget!" 

Vain thought ! Forgetfulness is not : 
Eeality is ne'er forgot ; 
And an imperishable pain 
May wake the dead to life again. 
Alas ! for those who deeply feel 
Time loses all its power to heal ! 
Yet is it weU, for Lethe brings 
Oblivion of all joyous things : 
If Joy and Grief alike must die 
Let both endure eternally ! 



41 



CHANGED. 

Who rashly in a world like this 

Stake all upon a single throw, 

And find their crowning sum of bliss 

At once cast down — at once laid low, 

May breathe, the load of life to bear. 

But seek no second idol there ; 

The hearts that sorrow could not break 

To stranger hands may never wake, 

And in their royal grief disdain 

To own on earth a humbler reign ; 

In vain Love stands with folded wings, 

To touch anew their trembling strings ; 

Those strings are mute, or if some strain 

Should fill their slumbering chords again, 

'Tis but a sound of other years 

Comes floating o'er the tide of tears. 

The echo of a vanished Past ; 

Soft, sadly sweet, becavxse the last .• 

For Love will quit the desert hall. 

And while the Autumn winds are sighing. 

Dry withered leaves will rise and fall 

Where once the spring-tide flowers were lying, 

When in the heart's departed youth. 

They blossomed in the Vale of Truth. 



42 THE WKECIC. 



THE WRECK. 

There is a wreck on yon low rocks 
Where the billows moan and weep, 

And the wild wind murmurs sadly, 
While the great world lies asleep. 

In my fancy, I can see it 
Peopled by a spectral crew, — 

Shadows of a vanished day-dream. 
Ghosts that once in youth I knew. 

Golden letters in that youth-time. 
Written on fair childliood's page 

Ere the springtide of existence 
Merged itself in swift old age. 

I can see them; they have come forth 
From the cave where Memory slept, 

Where for ages in one twelvemonth, 
Hour by hour Endurance wept. 

I can see them, changed yet changeless, 
StiU the same, but that a breath 

Swept across their bright horizon. 
From the frozen clime of death : 

Thoughts and feelings, hopes and wishes. 
Links that bound me to my kind. 

Gleaming ghastly in the moonlight. 
Warring with the might of Mind. 



EDEN. 43 

Why have they come back to haunt me ? 

Have I suffered all in vain P 
Shall the present hour be darkened 

With a bygone weight of pain ? 

Shadows of unbroken anguish 

Mock me not with fond regret ; 
Ye would bid me still remember, 

I am striving to forget. 



^^:^'^^-'^g>^^ 



EDEN. 

Oh ! flowers, so bright and beautiful, 

So soon to fade away — 
Why must the fairest things of earth 

All whisper of decay ? 
We have enough of Eden left 

To tell us we have strayed, 
And lost the robe of innocence 

In this world's masquerade. 

Our eyes are dim, we cannot trace 

Its everlasting flowers. 
And a dark cloud of mystery 

Hangs o'er these hearts of ours : 
But yet, amidst the gathering gloom 

Of sorrow's changeful strife, 
We see the fiery cherubim 

Guarding the sates of life. 



44 THE LESSON OF NIGHT. 



THE LESSON OF NIGHT, 

The Nigtt has come ! The weary Day 
Is numbered with the things that were: 

The Angel Time has swept away 
Its restless toil, its aching care, 

And gathered all its bitter tears 

Into the depths of bygone years. 

Over all is a tender rest, 

Over all is an air of balm. 
Bending to kiss the Ocean breast, 

Writing on Earth a holy calm. 
And graving on each giant grief — 
"■The sharpest tnal is but hnefT 

We must have sorrow, but the Past 
Is borne, and there is less to bear ; 

The matchless Heaven, serene and vast, 
Tells of a grand requital there, 

And merges all Earth's puny woes 

Into its own supreme repose. 

The myriad stars, so clear and deep, 

Seem to speak of eternal days. 
Looking down on a world asleep 

And growing brighter as we gaze. 
Like loopholes set in that dark blue 
When Angel-eyes are peering through. 



THE SPIRIT OF THE OCEAN. 45 

Why should our hearts be sad and lonely? 

Night is passing and Day at hand, 
God would have us remember only 

How near the gate of Heaven we stand; 
Sorrow is but a weary stair 
That leads us up to Glory there. 

^^^^^^^^^^"^ 

TO THE SPIRIT OF THE OCEAN. 

OoME from the " dark unfathomed cave," 

Where seas retreating roar, — 
Where the pent winds imprisoned rave, 
And thousand hues of emerald pave 

The star-bespangled floor. 

Aye, rouse thee, rouse thee in thy wrath, 

Thou beautiful and free ! 
Free to pursue thy destined path. 
And by commissioned ways go forth, 

Where'er those ways may be. 

Come, but thou can'st not burst the bands 

That wave from wave divide ; 
Or loose the chain of giant hands 
That girdle round ten thousand lands. 

And curb thy restless pride. 

" Thus far, no farther shalt thou go," 

Here thy dominion ends, 
Great deputy my power to show, 
And teach the universe to know 

Whose miglit the Heaven transcends. 

G 



46 FRAGMENT. 

A FKAGMENT. 

There is a peace, a holy rest 

No human hand can mar or make — 

There is a calmness unexprest 

No earthly grief has power to shake : 

But ah ! how few on earth attain 

The purchase of a life of pain — 

How few, how very few may win 

That deep majestic calm within, 

Which change in time can never know. 

Unmoved alike in joy and woe : 

The mighty calm, so strange to see, 

Where trials pass unheeded now, 

Whose feelings of mortality 

Have come and gone we know not how ! 

FAREWELL LINES TO THE 32nd REGIMENT, 

"LUCKNOW HEROES," 

ON THEIR DEPARTURE FROM DOVER, 
August 6th, 1860. 

Farewell! since ye must leave us; yet once more 

Accept our fervent blessings for the Past, 
Our earnest wishes that the Future's store, 

Serener honours on your path may cast ! 

While the grand march of Time, advancing fast, 
Treads down whole empires in its onward way. 

Yours be the grateful love that will outlast 
And live beyond all meaner things' decay, 
Holding a nation's heart beneath its powerful sway. 



FAREWELL LINES TO THE 32ND REGIMENT. 47 

All England loves you, justly, and of right : 
"Well have ye won that love, dear gallant band ! 

Your deeds shine out in characters of light 
In the proud annals of our glorious land. 
In high endurance take the foremost stand — 

The first in duty, and the first in fame : 
WeU do ye merit honours at our hand. 

Well earn the lustre of a lasting name. 

That may to latest days your well-won praise proclaim. 

And not alone conspicuous in the field, 

In 'leaguered Lucknow, and on India's plain'; 

Not singly in the deeds of death revealed, 
Our English heroes admiration gain, 
And foremost in our best affections reign : 

How many kindnesses have marked their stay ! 
Oh! who shall say such homage is in vain? 

We would not have them bear cold thoughts away, 

Or lose in after years the memory of To-day. 

While recollections of the suffering past 
In the great heart of England find a nest, 

"While England's gratitude and glory last 

And God maintains her heaven-defended rest. 
Honour to to all who bear the Lucknow crest ! 

Though they no longer in our ranks may dwell : 
Honour to all our bravest and our best! 

Long may our children their achievements tell — 

Long may they live — God bless them ! and Farewell ! 



48 THE SOLDIERS' WELCOME. 

THE SOLDIEES' WELCOME 

INSCRIBED TO THE THIRD (EAST KENT) BUFFS. 
April, 1861. 

Bid them welcome — they were standing 

Foremost in the battle strife, 
Where the youngest, noblest, strongest, 

Perished in the dawn of life. 
Whispers of a nation's glory, 

Whispers of a kindred's pride, 
Echoes from the far off Future 

Floating down the Present's tide, 
Tell us how they did their duty, 

TeU us how their comrades died! 

These, like others, struggled, suffered. 

High in courage, firm, and true ; 
Honour to the brave departed. 

Honour the surviving few. 
Let us bid them joyous welcome, 

England's heart shall homage pay, 
Both to those who in her quarrel, 

Living, flung their lives away, 
And the gallant hero -hearted 

Who regain their homes to-day. 



Printed at the "Dover Telegraph" Office. 



